


Family

by FreakishLemon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakishLemon/pseuds/FreakishLemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor claimed that the TARDIS was perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my LiveJournal on August 12th, 2010.

The Doctor claimed that the TARDIS was perfect. 

Rory had serious doubts about that, especially after several shaky takes offs and landings that closely resembled crashes, but he would admit that the ship was pretty amazing. Not only was it, as the Doctor liked to put it, “bigger on the inside,” but it was also apparently designed to provide whatever they needed. Rory spent the first few days aboard walking around amazed at how the lights were exactly the right brightness whenever he walked into a room and how the TARDIS had a whole wardrobe full of clothes that he liked and that it knew exactly how he liked his eggs in the morning. 

The Doctor spent those days following Rory around and grinning like a loon. 

Amy thought it was adorable. 

 

&

 

“Come on you two!” came the Doctor's voice, thankfully, from the _other side_ of their bedroom door. Rory was glad the Doctor had learned that lesson quickly. “Up and dressed! We've landed!”

“Give us a minute, Doctor!” Amy yelled back.

“Do we have to?” Rory asked his pillow. Amy laughed and climbed over him. 

“Come on you!” Amy grabbed his arm and tugged playfully. “Get up!”

“Don't wanna.”

“Rory Williams, if you don’t get up within the next... oh... say.... three minutes, I won’t let you shower with me,” she sing-songed.

“And if I don't?”

“ _Well_ , you'll be left to your own devices, won't you?” 

Rory didn't have to look at her to know she had _that_ grin on her face. He waited until Amy had entered their bathroom before he leapt out of bed. 

After their shower (which was _fantastic_ , thank you very much), Rory tugged on a pair of jeans, sat down on the bed, and watched Amy pick out clothes. Amy liked to pick out clothes and Rory was happy to let her. He liked to watch the faces she made in the mirror and he was amazed that he was the only one who got to see her at her most honest.

“Here, put this on.” 

Amy tossed a button-down shirt at him. Apparently, she was done with her own outfit for the day and had moved on to his while he was staring at her legs. He sighed, joking, and laughed when she fake punched him in the hip. Rory slid his arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up, frowning. 

“It's a little big,” Amy said, straightening out the hem. She frowned, squinting as she looked it over. “Nope. That's not going to work.”

“It's weird though,” Rory said, taking the shirt off again as Amy reached back into the wardrobe. 

“What is?”

“The shirt being too big. The TARDIS knows all our sizes. Everything always fits.”

“Here, try this one.”

“You don't think it's weird?”

“Stop worrying. It's probably nothing.”

 

&

 

“Rory... what are you doing?” 

Rory looked up from the toaster he was examining. 

“The TARDIS runs everything, right?”

“What?”

“The TARDIS. It runs everything on the ship, right? Controls whatever has power?”

“Yes. She does.” The Doctor frowned. “Why?”

“And it uses the psychic... thingy... to make stuff work?”

“ _Yes_ …” 

“Why is the toast burnt?”

“What toast?”

“That toast.” Rory pointed at the table.

He watched the Doctor look down at his plate. Sitting there were two perfectly blackened slices of toast. Rory put down the toaster and the Doctor picked up a piece of toast. 

“She's never done that before.” The Doctor flipped the toast over and sniffed it. “Not since that incident with Leela's throwing knives.... Hang on. Did you _do_ something?”

“What? No.” The Doctor stared hard at him. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Break anything? Touch anything you shouldn't have?” Rory shook his head. “You didn't say anything mean about her, did you?”

“ _No._ ” 

“Hmm....” The Doctor narrowed his eyes at Rory for a moment and then narrowed his eyes at the toast. “She must be having an off day.”

 

&

 

Two days after burnt toast, Rory took a wrong turn and got locked in a closet. He pounded on the door and yelled for Amy and the Doctor, but neither of them heard him. He tried calling Amy's cell phone because the Doctor had assured that they would both have reception within the TARDIS, but he couldn't get a signal for two hours. 

Amy had laughed and kissed him when she and the Doctor finally came to retrieve him. The Doctor had given him a funny look. 

He was starting to think the TARDIS didn't like him very much. 

 

&

 

The TARDIS, it seemed, had forgiven him for whatever he'd done when he found his favourite book on the bedside table and chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen the next day. 

 

&

 

It had become habit for the three of them to lounge around in the control room before deciding where to go adventuring next. Well, Rory and Amy would lounge in the weird chair thing – Rory actually in the chair and Amy on his lap – and the Doctor would pace impatiently and fiddle with the console and do the whole “all of time and space” thing where he rambled on and on about history and culture and societal quirks, which got all jumbled up into half formed suggestions.

It was mid-sentence when the Doctor's normally relatively comprehensible rambling suddenly _shifted_. Rory couldn't recognize the words. There were strange consonants and oddly lyrical vowels all arranged in a pattern he could only guess at. It was beautiful and alien and really shouldn't have been happening. 

“Rory?” The sound of his name startled him. 

“Sorry, what?” The Doctor glanced at Amy, who giggled. 

“You drifted off for a second there.”

“Did I?” Apparently, the TARDIS was translating for Amy and the Doctor just fine. Neither of them noticed the lapse. Something wasn't right here. 

“Are you alright, Rory?” The Doctor moved forward and began prodding him in the face, which Rory tried to fend off with one hand. “You seem... distracted.”

“Stop poking me. I'm _fine_.” The Doctor stopped. 

“If you're sure...?”

“Of course, he's sure,” Amy answered for him, hopping down from his lap. “Now, come _on_. Let's go somewhere _exciting._ ”

It was enough to distract the Doctor from Rory, who mouthed a 'thank you' over the Doctor's shoulder to Amy. She smiled back and kissed him when they landed. 

 

&

 

Amy had managed to get herself injured fighting giant mutant rose bushes in 16th century Spain. The Doctor had panicked and Rory had bandaged her arm as best he could at the time, but by the time they had sorted out the mad scientist from the future, Amy had collapsed, shaking and clammy. Her pulse was thready and her breathing heavy. 

The Doctor was feeling overly guilty about it and Rory was in full nurse mode when they made it back to the TARDIS. He rushed around the medical bay, hooking Amy up to monitoring equipment and listening to the Doctor’s mostly helpful rambling between his bouts of self blame. He looked up the species of plants spliced by the scientist as the Doctor wracked his brain for details in the scientist’s arrogant speech about his creations. They managed to determine the nature of the poison and the Doctor had the TARDIS synthesize an antidote while Rory prepped a syringe. 

Rory breathed a sigh of relief when Amy’s vitals finally evened out to normal rates. It would still be a few hours before the antidote completed its effects and a while longer before the sedative would wear off. The Doctor had pulled up a chair and held onto Amy's uninjured hand while Rory worked. When it didn’t look like there was anything more he could do, Rory set down the handheld monitor and stretched, cracking his back. 

“I could stay with her,” the Doctor said. “You know... if you want to go eat or sleep or something...”

“Doctor.” The Doctor looked up at him. He looked terrible. Defeated and tired. “She's going to be fine. You said it yourself. She just needs to sleep for a bit while this works.”

The half smile the Doctor gave him made him look much older than his face. His usually frantic fingers were strangely still as he reached out to smooth back Amy's hair from her forehead. 

“I should have been faster. I should have warned her or gone ahead or... or...”

“If you're going to blame yourself every time one of us blunders into something we shouldn't, I am going to throw you out of your own spaceship.”

The Doctor blinked at him. 

“You can't blame yourself for everything. We're human. We mess up. We're very good at injuring ourselves and you won't always be able to stop us from doing stupid things. That's just how life works. Besides,” Rory said, looking down at Amy. “Do you _really_ think she would have listened even if you could have warned her?” 

“No,” the Doctor sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

“So don't beat yourself up over it.”

“But-”

“No.”

“I-”

“ _No_.” The Doctor huffed indignantly. 

“You-”

“ _ **No.**_ ” Rory couldn't help but laugh. “Just no. This was not your fault. Keep blaming yourself and I'm finding you a therapist on the next planet we land on. Don’t think I won’t.” The Doctor leaned back in his chair, let go of Amy's hand for a moment to cross his arms, and pouted. 

“ _Fine_.”

“Good. Stay with Amy for a bit. The adrenaline’s wearing off. I'm going to go take a nap.” He was lying, but the Doctor was distracted enough not to notice. “I'll be back in a few hours to check on her. When I come back, _you_ are going to make yourself a cup of tea and go to bed. You look exhausted. Don’t argue with me-” Rory interrupted the Doctor before he could get a word out. “In a couple hours, _tea_ and _sleep_.”

The Doctor shut his mouth and nodded. 

“She'll be fine,” Rory reassured once more before ducking out into the corridor, hoping that his own words would convince him while he wasn’t there with her.

Two patients down, one more to go.

Rory set a timer on his phone and set off down the nearest hallway. He had to get away from the medical bay so that he didn't draw the Doctor's attention. He took the next two lefts and a right until the hallway opened up into a sort of domed hub. 

“Alright,” he said to the ceiling, feeling a bit foolish. “I'm really hoping that the Doctor isn't _that_ crazy and that you...you know... can hear and understand me.” 

Rory waited for an answer. 

“You need to talk to me somehow. You've gone through the trouble of getting my attention. The shirt and the toast and stuff? You must need something from me.”

He waited again. 

“Look, you either talk to me or I go get the Doctor.”

The lights went out. 

“Oh. Good. That's _great_.”

Silence. 

“Is that it, then? You're just going to leave me in the dark?”

A light flickered down one of the corridors. Another light flickered further down the hall. Rory wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea – after all, it would be very like the Doctor to have a secretly murderous space/time ship – but he followed the lights, hoping that he was right to trust it.

When the lights stopped blinking, Rory stopped walking. The TARDIS had led him to a section of dimly lit hallway with a jagged hole in the wall. It reminded Rory of a wound, open and raw. The gap was bigger than he was, but not by much. It looked like something had eroded the wall away, but there didn't seem to be any residue.

“What's happened here?” Rory asked, carefully running a hand over the edges. 

The surface behind the wall was unlike anything he had ever seen. This was a space ship, essentially, and he expected there to be wires and metal supports and the kind of things you'd see in science fiction films, but behind the walls of the TARDIS was something like... flesh. Semi-transparent and almost membranous with soft golden lights buried deep within, blinking. Rory cautiously reached out a hand to touch it. A light pulsed under his hand and a spark brightened on the edge of his consciousness. This ship was _alive_. 

“What are you?” Rory asked the wall. The spark in his mind flared warmly. 

Amusement. 

“So, what's wrong then? Why talk to _me_?” Another light brightened in the wall. Rory placed his other hand over it. There was a moment of nothing. Then everything whited out. 

Rory gritted his teeth as memories began pouring into his head. Her history and the history of her people. Their home planet, where their sprawling choral-like bodies covered the continents, existing in a finite time (a hell of a long time, Rory saw, but finite) but with the comprehension of all time and all space. The joint memories of living generations. The brutality of the first Time Lords intent on progress, harvesting her people and splicing them, breeding them with Time Lord machinery to create the perfect time travel vessel. The psychological symbiosis with test pilots and surgical augmentation to make them “better.” She was a Mark 40, descended from those still more animal than mineral, and her sisters had been culled for obsolescence. The Doctor had stolen her from her destruction. Healed her. Taken her away. Gave her a _purpose_. Saved her from the war locked in time. 

She smoothed the pain of the memories away when she was finished. Rory leaned forward, resting his forehead against her, shaking slightly under the onslaught. She apologized.

“No, no. I'm fine.” He swallowed his disgust at what had been done to her. “Are you all right?”

The memories were fact. Old. Unchangeable and not worth dwelling on. The TARDIS brushed his mind again, assuring. Rory blinked, confused. 

“Why _tell_ me then?” 

Rory could feel her hesitate, not unlike some of his patients back in Leadworth who couldn't always quite name their symptoms. She tried to convey a sensation, which translated as something between an itch and a stomach ache, but she couldn't place exactly where it was coming from. 

“And you're afraid that it might be because of something they did to you?” 

Agreement. 

“Because you're the only one left and the others didn't live this long. You don't know if this is a side effect or not. You don’t have anyone left to ask.”

Agreement again. Rory rubbed the wall soothingly, mulling over the problem. 

“Is there a chance that it's something else? Like... TARDIS space flu or something?” 

Amusement. Uncertainty. Fear.

“It's okay,” Rory soothed. “Don't panic, alright? Panicking isn't going to help you and it's not going to help us.”

Calm. 

“Why haven't you told the Doctor?”

Fear again. 

“Shh, I'm just asking. He'd know more than me. I might not be any help at all. I've never helped anyone like you before.”

Memories again, of the Doctor. Old and young, always moving and talking. Kindly repairing her and adjusting augmentations that had restricted her to make her more comfortable. Surrounded by others, always coming and going. Always meeting and always saying goodbye. Heartbreak and abandonment. Loneliness. Her promises to stay with him forever. Constant. 

“You don't want to let him down.”

Agreement.

“If something's wrong, he needs to know about it.”

Anger. The light overhead threatened to go out. 

“Alright, alright!” Rory yelled. The TARDIS in the dark seemed a lot more threatening now that he knew that she was a _person_. “Alright. I won't tell him. _For now_.”

The lights brightened slightly. 

“But you have to tell me about anything else that happens. Any other... symptoms... or whatever. Any changes. If it gets _worse_ , you have to tell the Doctor.”

Disagreement. 

“Listen.” Rory pressed his hands firmly into the wall. “If something is seriously wrong, if this feeling gets worse, what does that mean for us? Huh? We _depend_ on you. If things start going wrong and you can't keep everything working, it would put me and Amy and the Doctor in danger.”

Fear. Hesitation. Agreement. 

“Okay?” Rory asked, letting up on the pressure. “If the feeling gets worse, you need to tell the Doctor. For now, it's just us. But you have to let me know what you need, alright?”

Agreement. Assistance?

“Now that you've asked for it, I can't exactly say no, can I? I'm a nurse. And you know that. You wouldn't have asked me otherwise.”

Satisfaction. 

Rory's phone started beeping. Time was up.

“Okay. I need to check on Amy and make sure the Doctor doesn't guilt trip himself into an early grave.”

Fond exasperation. Rory laughed. 

“I'll check in again when I can.” Rory patted the wall and stepped back. The lights twinkled gratefully and the lights in the halls glowed brightly again. He started down one hallway, paused, and came back. 

“You couldn't show me the quickest way back, could you?”

A light flickered to his right. 

 

&

 

Sometimes, when Rory couldn't sleep, he'd tell the TARDIS stories. 

Sometimes, she'd tell him stories, too. His dreams were filled with Daleks and Cybermen and hope and triumph and the Doctor. _Always_ the Doctor. 

 

&

 

Rory began noticing a kind of rumbling underfoot when the TARDIS materialized and the Doctor began noticing a slight lag in response to the controls. Amy didn’t notice anything, but Rory didn’t expect her to. He’d been present for the incident with her aunt’s car and it _still_ gave him nightmares.

The TARDIS assured him she was fine whenever he asked, but her replies were becoming less convincing. She’d been in his head enough for him to recognize when she was lying.

“You have to tell him.”

Disagreement.

 

&

 

When Rory woke up from having been killed (and wasn't _that_ a fun revelation in the morning), his first thought was of Amy. She was generally his first thought in the morning, so that was nothing unusual, but he missed her and that hurt more than realizing he had been killed. 

His second thought was of the Doctor. The last he remembered, the Doctor was okay, so he _had_ managed to do some good shoving him out of the way like that. He hoped that the Doctor would hurry up and figure out this whole mess because all the memories of having grown up a Roman were very distracting. 

His third thought was for the TARDIS. He worried that something may have happened. Last he knew, she still hadn’t told the Doctor about what she’d been feeling. He knew she was a stubborn ship, but she had parked _right_ next to where a crack in the universe had opened. She should have been able to see that. She should have been able to avoid it. There was something seriously wrong.

Rory hoped she was okay. He hoped they were all okay. But most of all, he hoped that the TARDIS could find him somehow so that he could see them all again.

 

&

 

When all was said and done – after the end of the universe and being recreated and finally getting _married_ – Rory found himself in the same hallway where he had first officially met the TARDIS. Touching her was easy for him now and it was comforting for both of them. He had spent millennia as a plastic man and she had spent just as long burning. He had spent too long numb and waiting and she had spent too much time in pain and frightened. He didn't want to trouble Amy with his nightmares. She didn't want the Doctor's guilt to weigh any more heavily. They had no one else in these dark hours before her synthetic dawn.

“I should have told the Doctor.”

Regret. Agreement. Guilt. 

“Hey. It's not your fault. You didn't know what would happen. I couldn't guess. What's happened has happened. We can't change it,” Rory said, echoing her own sentiments from their first meeting. “There's no point dwelling on it. We move on now.”

Agreement. 

“Is it still there?”

Fear. Affirmation. 

“Better? Worse?”

A sense of lessening. 

“That's good for now, I suppose. You tell the Doctor from now on. If anything changes. You won’t be able to hide from him now that he knows something is wrong.”

Agreement. Regret. Stay?

Rory laughed at the eagerness of her question, sliding down to sit on the floor with his back against her.

“Just try and get rid of me.” 

Rory knocked twice on the wall at his side and the TARDIS hummed twice in return. He knew they made an odd pair – a space ship and a human – but he felt safe with her. There was never any question of returning once the wedding was over. Amy needed the Doctor in her own way, just as much as she needed him, and the Doctor needed _them_ as much as he needed the TARDIS. The TARDIS needed her travelers and he needed _this._ He needed the quiet sanctuary of this one beautiful loving creature, the last if her kind in all of time and all of space. 

“We’ll find out who did this,” Rory whispered. “And we’ll fix it. We’re family now. We take care of each other. No one gets left alone.”

Love.


End file.
